


The Mighty Heights of Wuthering Boosh

by A_Little_Boosh_Maid



Category: The Mighty Boosh (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Crossdressing, M/M, Major spoilers for the BOOK, Male Slash, Mild Sexual Content, Post-Canon, Romance, Sexuality, Swearing, Wuthering Heights References
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-21
Updated: 2018-07-21
Packaged: 2019-06-11 19:27:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15322593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Little_Boosh_Maid/pseuds/A_Little_Boosh_Maid
Summary: Partly inspired by Noel Fielding's interpretation of Kate Bush's "Wuthering Heights", except I thought it would be more fun to base it on the book rather than the song. Because Catherine and Heathcliff have so much in common with Vince and Howard: you know, that whole scruffy northerner meets ragamuffin bitch in a weird mystical setting, leading to buckets of unresolved sexual tension, mutual torture, and of course, going very, very wrong indeed ....





	The Mighty Heights of Wuthering Boosh

**Author's Note:**

> Retorted Vince, "If all else perished, and he remained, I should still continue to be; and if all else remained, and he were annihilated, the universe would turn to a mighty stranger: I should not seem a part of it ... My love for Howard resembles the eternal rocks beneath: a source of little visible delight, but necessary ... I AM Howard! He's always, always in my mind: not as a pleasure, any more than I am always a pleasure to myself, but as of my own being. So don't talk of our separation again: it is impracticable". 
> 
> My apologies to Emily Brontë, but she got through "Twilight" so this should be a doddle for her

Howard Moon strode broodingly around the wild Yorkshire moors, gazing off into the distance in a frowny sort of way, then striding back in the other direction to stare menacingly at some grey cliffs he didn't like the look of. He had set up himself quite a busy little schedule for the day: stride, brood, gaze, frown, stride, stare, think up some really evil schemes that would completely ruin the lives of all his remaining relatives, curse their damned souls, enjoy a relaxing cup of cocoa, turn in early, then start it all again tomorrow.

Howard's designated period of menacing staring was rudely interrupted by the sight of a glorious ivory-skinned raven-haired beauty, wearing a long red satin dress and the sort of silly shoes that are completely useless for brisk walks on the moor. Nonetheless, the glorious beauty seemed to be managing quite well in them, perhaps through practiced skill, enormous vanity, or sheer pig-headed determination. Howard couldn't help noticing that the extremely silly shoes gave the beauty a provocative sway of the slender hips.

"Enchanted to meet you", said Howard with a gallant bow, kissing the beauty's hand just a moment longer than courtesy permitted. "I am Howard Moon, a moody Byronic hero with a mysterious past – I mean, the lord of this manor".

"Hi, I'm Vince", said the beauty, without further elaboration.

"Vince, what an enchanting name", said Howard. "A lovely name for a lovely lady".

"I'm not a lady, you berk", Vince corrected him. "I'm a bloke in a dress".

"Somehow that's still incredibly enchanting to me", confessed Howard.

"Kinky bastard", giggled Vince. "Who would have thought?".

"I can tell by your enchanting speech that you are not from these parts", went on Howard. "What brings you to Yorkshire, my fair ... er, Vince?".

" _I_ don't know, Howard", said Vince in exasperation. "This is your fantasy, not mine".

"Oh really?", said Howard. "You don't think it's a bit your fantasy as well?".

"You're unbelievable, Howard", said Vince petulantly. "Even in a fantasy, you won't admit you fancy me. You have to turn it around so I'm having a fantasy about you, so you don't have to take responsibility for it. That's so messed _up_ ".

"Look, forget all that", said Howard in irritation. "Just say why you came to Yorkshire. It doesn't have to be a complicated backstory or anything".

"I dunno, whatever. You come up with something", said Vince, who was clearly working himself into a mood.

"Well, maybe you came to visit your grandmother, who's unwell", suggested Howard lamely.

"What kind of selfish monster do you think I _am_?", screeched Vince in distress. "My granny's at death's door, and I'm twirling about the frigging moors in a long dress, flirting with handsome strangers?".

"She's not at death's door", Howard said persuasively. "She's just got a cold. You've given her a Lemsip and tucked her under a blanket for a little sleep while you allow yourself a brief respite from the sick room to wander on the moors to refresh your spirits".

"What, I came all the way up here just for a cold?", said Vince. "What do I do if she cuts her finger – move in with her?".

"Okay forget the bloody grandmother", said an annoyed Howard. "You came here in search of passion – rich, hot, searing passion, the like of which you could never find in Shoreditch".

"Huh, you don't know _what_ you can get down Charlotte Road", said Vince. "There's all sorts there".

"Yes, but it won't be the kind of pure, intoxicating passion you could find on a wild Yorkshire moor", said Howard doggedly. "It won't be the kind of passion you could have with me".

There must have been something in Howard's manner which moved Vince at last, or perhaps he really did feel like a bit of pure intoxicating passion with a handsome stranger on a wild Yorkshire moor, because he looked at him, and finally said:

"Oh alright. Come here for a snog then, you big scruffy northerner".

Vince threw his arms around Howard, and pressed his lips against him. He kissed him gently, because Howard scared easily, and he kissed him with the deepest emotion, because Howard had a loving heart, and he kissed him with rich hot searing passion, because Howard had an earthy sensuality at the core of him, and he kissed him in pure intoxication, because that's how kissing Howard made him feel.

Howard kissed back eagerly, but awkwardly, like an adolescent with his first love, winding his fingers into Vince's dark hair and pulling him towards himself as if he had just discovered that Vince was the most beautiful person in the world, and his heart's fondest desire.

He's like a kid really, Vince thought. We should have done all this when we were fourteen, either got it out of our systems then, or become childhood sweethearts and by now we'd be married and living in a little house with a garden and making everyone proper sick with how perfect we are together and how we always hold hands and call each other pet names and having little tiffs and then making up again ...

At this blissfully domestic vision of what might have happened if they'd snogged at fourteen, tears began rolling down Vince's face.

"Hey hey, what's wrong?", asked Howard anxiously. "What did I do? Is it because I'm terrible at kissing?".

Vince gave a shaky grin and rubbed his eyes on his arm.

"No, you're a genius kisser, Howard. You're all pure intoxicating passion and everything. I was just thinking some well soppy stuff".

Then Vince had a thought and frowned.

"Wait a minute – this is your fantasy, so why am I crying?".

Howard looked embarrassed.

"Because I love the way your eyes look when they're full of tears", he admitted. "They look like forget-me-nots washed in the rain. You're so strong that you almost never cry, and any time you do, I would move heaven and earth to make you feel better".

He took Vince in his arms, and kissed him. They were soft kisses, and still shy kisses, but they were no longer the kisses of a boy.

"I'm not too _strong_ to cry, you tit, I don't want my mascara to run!", Vince said with a slightly damp giggle. "I suppose it's gone everywhere now".

"Yeah a bit, you kind of look like Alice Cooper in a long satin dress", said Howard. "But it uh – looks okay on you".

"Howard, why am I wearing a dress in your fantasy?", asked Vince, looking down at it.

"I just thought you'd look beautiful in a red dress, and you do", said Howard in appreciation.

"I know you think I look like a futuristic prostitute, but I don't usually wear actual dresses. The last time I did, it was to be a glamour nanna so we could get into the bingo, and you wore a dress too".

"Mm, you made a very saucy nanna by the way", said Howard. "Gave me dirty thoughts about old age pensioners for a long time after".

"Here, don't get any ideas about my Gran", said Vince, giving him a playful shove. "She's been poorly".

Vince went on: "But seriously Howard, did you want me to wear a dress so you could pretend I was a woman? Is that the only way you can really fancy me?".

"Men can wear dresses", Howard said firmly. "Alice Cooper did, so did Bowie, and Iggy Pop is still wearing them. They weren't pretending to be anything other than men".

"Because the thing is, Howard", Vince continued, "I don't really know what you are. I mean I'm a bit of both, and Naboo is a lot of nothing, and Bollo is obviously gay, but I've never been sure about you".

Howard pondered. Eventually he said, "I think I must be Vince-sexual. I mean, I would have loved and wanted you if you'd been a woman, but instead I love and want you because you're a man. And I only love and want you, and nobody else, ever".

"Well I feel sorry for me as a woman", said Vince. "Poor little bitch – you would have broken her heart a thousand times". He made his face go hard, because he couldn't cry any more or his mascara would look a nightmare, and sod the stupid forget-me-nots.

"I'm sorry Vince, but my heart is broken too; broken and aching", said Howard sadly. He wasn't wearing mascara, so didn't have to worry about the tears in his eyes making a mess.

"It's never going to work out if we can only talk properly in a fantasy", sighed Vince.

"At least we'll always have Yorkshire", said Howard, looking around at the dream landscape of the eighteenth century moors.

"And why Yorkshire?", asked Vince, who having been brought to someone else's fantasy seemed resolved to question every bit of it.

"I wanted us to fall in love where I grew up", said Howard with a shrug. "It seemed like a nice idea".

"You're from Leeds", Vince argued.

"This _is_ Leeds", explained Howard. "My fantasy put the old Yorkshire moors in the middle of modern Leeds. You get to enjoy all the romance of the wild heathland, but it's no more than ten minutes to the nearest curry house".

"And why is it romantic?", asked Vince, looking around dubiously at the lonely moors and crags.

"Don't you recognise it? It's _Wuthering Heights_ ", said Howard.

"The song?", asked Vince uncertainly.

"You never read the book, or saw a movie of it?", Howard asked.

Vince shook his head.

"Oh it's the greatest love story to ever come out of Yorkshire", said Howard. "I always pictured you in the heroine's role - a tough, mouthy, dark-haired beauty".

"Okay then", said Vince, suddenly looking business-like. "This is your fantasy, mate, so let's make it happen. Tell me what I need to do".

"Well, it might sound a bit silly", Howard blushed, "but basically we run towards each other over the moors, calling out each other's names, and then we meet and kiss".

"In these shoes?", said Vince. "Better make it a short run. Here, fix my make-up, you could have fantasied me up a mirror".

Howard did what he could with the corner of a white handkerchief.

"There, that's no longer Alice Cooper, it's more a young Mick Jagger now", said Howard.

"Thanks Howard. I love what you've done with your hair in this fantasy by the way", said Vince, running his fingers through it. "Looks good all long and silky. And this waistcoat over a blouse really works for you".

They got themselves a little distance apart, then ran towards each other over the heather, Howard calling "Vince, Vince!", and Vince yelling "Howard!" while he cursed his silly shoes. They would have been alright in Camden, but tended to stick into the moor at inconvenient times.

Howard ran towards Vince, and when they met he crushed Vince into a close embrace, dipping him low as he forced hungry, wolfish kisses upon his lips, his tongue exploring Vince's mouth with impudent savagery, and his brute hands exploring wherever the hell they damn well wanted to explore.

Blimey this is all right, thought Vince. This makes up for the shoes.

And then he could no longer think, because he was learning about the pure intoxicating passion of being snogged by Howard Moon on a wild Yorkshire moor. The world stopped and stood still, and alone on the changeless landscape, Vince knew unquestioningly that Howard was necessary to his very existence, that never could they be parted for they were in essence one and the same, and that without Howard the universe would ever turn a stranger's face to him, blank and unmeaning.

Vince looked up at Howard in wonder, and even though he wasn't crying, his eyes still looked like forget-me-nots in the rain.

"Wow", he said. "That was amazing. Now what happens?".

"Well", said Howard, trying to remember; he hadn't read _Wuthering Heights_ since he was about twenty and it had got mixed up with movie versions. "You go mad and die, and I dig your body up and go a bit nuts on it, and then I spend decades ruining my family's lives out of a twisted sense of revenge, and I also rape my wife and beat her, except I think that came earlier".

"Wot?", said Vince, going pale. "Did you say I just kissed a rapist?".

"And then I kill myself, and our souls can finally be together, and we spend all eternity wandering the moors, because we are too wicked for heaven but too wild for hell".

"Anything else?", said Vince stonily.

"And we're brother and sister", added Howard. "Twice over really, because we're brother and sister by adoption, but also half-siblings biologically".

Vince looked outraged.

"What kind of sick _fuck_ finds that romantic?", he demanded. "Is this what you get off on? Necrophilia and domestic violence? I mean fuck me, Howard, I thought your fantasies would involve a relaxing cup of cocoa and turning in early, not rape and fucking suicide!". His voice was rising to a shrill shriek.

"Um, I was planning to just sort of gloss over all that part", said Howard uneasily. He felt that things weren't going so well. "You know, just concentrate on us being soulmates, madly in love, and being together forever".

"How do you just _gloss over_ incest?", asked Vince in horror. "How do you manage to skip the part where I'm your sodding _sister_ , Howard?".

"I know it sounds bad", said Howard, "but it's really a very romantic story and I've loved it since first reading it at fourteen".

"No wonder you've got problems then, Howard", said Vince, shaking his head. "You've gone wrong, and I refuse to take part in this sick fantasy a second longer".

"Well, what do you want to do then, Vince?", asked Howard. For Howard Moon was a true gentleman, and would never drag someone into his fantasy and force them into crippling shoes without allowing them their own choice in the matter at some point.

"How about you take me back to yours, we bum each other senseless, then go for a curry?", suggested Vince.

"It would be my honour, my fairest and loveliest Vince", said Howard.

He gallantly swung Vince into his arms, and strode off with him into the sunset through the mists, carrying him as if to a bridal chamber. Vince kicked off the horrid shoes with relief, and left them to sink into a particularly boggy patch of moor.

Vince lay in Howard's arms. He felt safe and cherished, and Howard was carrying him in such a way that he could feel Howard's big powerful hands right up his dress. They still seemed to be in quite an exploratory mood, and it turned out that Vince wearing underwear wasn't an essential part of Howard's fantasy. Vince put his arms around Howard's neck, and kissed him deeply.

Finally we get to do something _I_ want in this ridiculous place, thought Vince in satisfaction.

He continued to deny, even to himself, that this was in any way his fantasy too.

**Author's Note:**

> If you wonder when exactly this story takes place, it's during the miserable period after Season 3, when I pictured Vince and Howard as barely speaking to one another, both heartbroken over their kiss gone wrong, and rejection of each other, with Howard very hurt, and Vince very angry over how the other one had behaved. This period came to an end in my story, "Married on the Morrow", set a few months later.
> 
> I don't think either Howard or Vince ever remembered this shared dream-fantasy, but it got into their subconscious, and if you read "Married on the Morrow" you can see that it slightly influenced some of their decisions.


End file.
